


Done Deal, Just Seal

by kolibris



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dating Advice, Enemies With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Homewrecking, Jealousy, Kink Meme, Multi, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-12-30 23:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12119208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kolibris/pseuds/kolibris
Summary: Ryuji finds help for his dating life from an unexpected source.





	1. Good Start

**Author's Note:**

> For [this kinkmeme request](http://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/993.html?thread=121057#cmt121057):
> 
> _Ryuji has a crush on Ann, but is afraid of Akira stealing her away. So, he begrudgingly goes to Goro, who seems to charm all the girls he meets, for advice on how to get girls. This soon devolves into a friends/enemies with benefits situation under the guise of "practice"._
> 
> _Bonus points if Ryuji finally gets a date with Ann and she doesn't excite him anymore because he's fallen for Goro._
> 
> I wanted to wait until I had this actually finished to post this here, but I just started a new job and a new semester at the same time and I'm dyyyyyyiiingggggg. So here it is for the last hurrah of my fic dump (until I can get some more time to work on it)...

    **ANN** 「 I can’t today. Gonna study with Akira. Maybe next time? 」

Ryuji shoves his phone back into his pocket and he can’t control the sour look that comes across his face. Damn, he can’t even compete with boring-ass schoolwork when Akira’s involved.

Maybe the problem is they’ve known each other too long. To Ann, Ryuji’s still the kid with the toy dolphin for mommy, who ran into the light pole in front of her in eighth grade. He doesn’t have the luxury of a clean slate with her like Akira does. And honestly, compared to Akira, how can he possibly stand out? The dude’s just freakishly cool.

He thought he’d feel better once he picked up this week’s manga, but as he walks out of the bookstore, the thick book tucked under his arm weighs heavy with the mark of being another childish thing he likes. Well, whatever. He couldn’t _not_ get it, not when there’s so many big fights wrapping up. He thumbs through it for a sneak peek before he feels a sharp whisper, hot against his ear.

“Look alive.”

He whips his head around so fast, he almost thinks that him standing face-to-face with Goro Akechi is from knocking a screw loose.

“Akechi!” Ryuji yelps. He can’t think of anything more insightful to say than that; the guy seriously appeared out of nowhere and it’s all Ryuji can do to not trip over his own feet to get away from him. The serious look Akechi suddenly gets doesn’t help matters, either. 

“I finally caught you,” Akechi says, hard in face and voice, and Ryuji feels a sting of fear go right to his heart. Does he—? No, not even Akechi could have figured him out as a Thief, no way. “What are you doing here?”

“Mindin’ my own damn business, what’s it look like?” Ryuji spits out. Before Akechi can even respond, a gaggle of Kosei girls suddenly crowds in tight around them; is everyone a goddamn ninja today or something?

“Ahhh, Akechi-kun! You walk so fast!” one girl gasps, before another thrusts out her bag. “Umm, do you think you can sign my schoolbag…?” Another screams, “Please, just touch my hand!”, and Ryuji gets the distinct feeling he’s been trapped in one of Ann’s crappy dramas.

Akechi seems unperturbed by the attention. He gives Ryuji a look he can’t quite figure out, then turns toward the girls. “My apologies,” he says, “but I’m interrogating a suspect right now. I can’t talk when I’m on official business, and besides,” he lowers his voice to a whisper Ryuji can still fucking hear, “this man is dangerous and it isn’t safe for you all to be here. Please, you should leave.”

If Ryuji could call out Captain Kidd here then he’d blast Akechi’s ass dead on the spot, no question about it. He stomps forward with a furious “WHAT?!” before he can think better of it. It’s too late; those girls, already wide-eyed and edging away from him, now look struck by sheer terror. They take off down the street as fast as their legs can carry them.

“O-Okay, Akechi-kun!”  
“Thank you, Akechi-kun!”  
“Don’t kill me!”

“What the hell was that?” Ryuji snarls at Akechi, and he shouldn’t be provoking the Detective Prince of all people but the Thieves would understand if they were here, too; he can’t just let this shit go.

But Akechi doesn’t look intimidated at all. He just gives a leisurely chuckle, smiling like he’s got a ray of sunshine beaming right out of his ass. “I’m sorry to do that to you, but they’ve been following me for half an hour now.” Another laugh bubbles up out of him and that smile grows even bigger. “You played your part perfectly, though. I wasn’t quite sure if it would work, but I had to give it a try once I saw you. And I have to say, I’m glad I did.”

“My _part?!_ They think I’m some kinda thug-ass psycho now! What if they call the cops on me?”

“I don’t think they will if they believe I’ve handled it,” Akechi says, looking back at the girls rapidly going out of view. He’s so easygoing about this and damn if it doesn’t piss Ryuji off even more, like bringing an arrest record back to his mom doesn’t matter, doesn’t Akechi get that? Before he knows it, he’s slamming his book down to the sidewalk – yeah, immature again, but it takes the edge off a little bit. That definitely grabs Akechi’s attention. “Are you alright?”

“Hell no!” Ryuji shouts. “What’s your problem? Who even does that shit?” Passersby are staring at them now, probably have been for awhile.

“Listen…” Akechi stops, like he’s searching for a name, “Sakamoto-san, I truly am sorry—”

“You’re swimmin’ in girls but you still gotta make me look like the bad guy to get rid of ‘em?” Akechi’s eyebrows raise a tick and wait, that’s not what this should be about at all, but thinking about it now just makes Ryuji boil even more. “You don’t even get how lucky you are, do you? Celebrities are the freakin’ worst.”

Akechi frowns. “‘Lucky’ is not the first word I would choose to describe having stalkers, personally.”

“Get real, they’re just hot chicks who want your autograph.” There are some glaring at Ryuji from across the street right now, actually, so he self-consciously picks his book back up. Maybe Akechi is feeling their attention too, because he comes forward and ducks his head close to Ryuji’s.

“Are you hungry?” Akechi whispers. “I know an excellent sushi place nearby. My treat.”

“What is this, a bribe?”

“No, this is my way of thanking you, Sakamoto-san. I suggest you take it before we create even more of a scene here.”

Thanking him? Sushi, with _this_ asshole? Ryuji wants to tell him right where he can stick that sushi but his stomach starts rumbling in appreciation. That’s what he gets for skipping lunch today. He glowers up at Akechi. “Yeah, okay, fine. But I’m gonna make it worth my damn while.” 

Fifty minutes and sixteen nigiri later, he’s keeping true to his word, although it’s not hard to when everything he orders transcends him to sushi nirvana. He could almost forget Akechi was sitting next to him if it wasn’t for their waitress, hovering nearby and making goo-goo-eyes at Boy Wonder, and the bile rising up in his throat is threatening the rest of his precious appetite.

“You gonna say something to her or what?” he mutters, and Akechi gives him a little tilt of the head. “The waitress. She won’t stop checkin’ you out.”

“Is that so?” Akechi says. There’s no way he didn’t know, god, not with that pleased look he has, and it just grosses Ryuji out. He shoves more hamachi in his mouth anyway, because like hell he’s gonna waste free food. 

When his busting stomach finally calls it quits, that waitress dashes over and slips Akechi the receipt. There’s pen scribbling at the top that's unmistakable.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Ryuji says. He expects some kind of reaction out of Akechi, but he silently takes out his wallet instead, so Ryuji leans in even more. “She gave you her _number?_ ”

“It appears as though she did.”

“Why are you acting all whatever about it? You’re not gonna call her later?” Ryuji watches him flip the receipt over, slipping a few crisp bills on top. “Oh, I get it, this shit happens to you all the time.”

“It’s just a phone number,” Akechi says. “It’s not important.”

“Uh, people only say that crap when they got so much action it ain’t a problem anymore. When you’re in my shoes, shit’s important, alright?”

“Mmmm.” 

What the hell, Akechi really _is_ unfazed by this. If it happened to him, the whole restaurant would know about it. Mishima’d flip too, and he bets even Akira wouldn’t be composed like this. He feels overcome with morbid curiosity. “Come on. How many girls you been with?”

Akechi takes his time mulling it over before he gives Ryuji a camera-ready smile. “It’s not polite of me to say.”

“No freakin’ way… it’s enough that you gotta be modest about it?! Wait, are we just talkin’ dates here, or…” He can’t even bring himself to finish that thought because shit, life really _is_ unfair. He slams his fist on his thigh. “Man! What the hell am I doin’ wrong where I can’t even get _one?_ ” 

_Shit!_ It’s out, he really said that, his tongue going thick from trying too late to stop it. _Shitshitshit, what am I even saying to him?_ If he didn’t sound like a jealous loser before then he definitely does now. Akechi says nothing, just makes a thoughtful noise, and that makes Ryuji feel even worse.

“I think I could be of use,” Akechi finally says.

“You—uh, what?”

“I mean, maybe there are things you’re doing wrong after all, or could do better. It’s not much, but perhaps my experience could help.” Weird. It sounds like Akechi offered to be… actually helpful. Ryuji blankly stares at him because it must be some kind of mistake, until Akechi awkwardly fishes out his phone. “Here, take my contact info. If I think of anything useful, I can send it to you. If that’s alright with you?”

“Uh.” Ryuji grabs for his own, wedged weird in his pants pocket. “Y-Yeah, thanks, man.” He supposes he’ll have to be alright with it as Akechi’s name pops into his contacts. The Phantom Thieves’ Enemy Number One is now a text away at his disposal, and he wants to help Ryuji get some.

Things are suddenly, inexplicably looking up.

Akechi’s phone number in hand, Ryuji leaves the restaurant with the waitress watching him in a kicked-puppy daze, and he thinks that maybe this isn’t how things are supposed to go in the universe. But hey, for now he isn’t complaining.

***

Ryuji is starting to suspect the secret to dating isn’t in the technique, but more in how ridiculously pretty you look.

He’s had the freaking date whisperer tucked in his pocket for two weeks, with how much Akechi texts him advice, so he thinks _something_ should have happened by now. And he’s really trying to follow everything Akechi says: do this, say that, wear something other than a graphic tee already. Okay, everything except that last one, come on. He’s even got his favorite shirt on today, bright as hell with some English Ann says makes no sense, because even if it says totally dumb shit it was still something she liked on him.

But none of it’s gotten him anywhere. He tried to ask out the cute girl sitting near him in class last week, and now she just gives him a withering glare if he even accidentally makes eye contact with her. It makes pretending to pay attention in class that much harder and a date with Ann look further away than ever – his game’s not just in the toilet, it’s in the damn sewers and floating out to the ocean. 

In a moment of pure desperation, he reaches out.

    **RYUJI** 「 Dude, none of this shit is working. 」

    **AKECHI** 「 Did you read the magazine article I sent you? 」

    **RYUJI** 「 This isn’t something a stupid article can fix! 」

    **RYUJI** 「 I just need practice. I need to get a date! 」

Ryuji hides his phone back in the desk cubby and tries to listen to the lesson for a bit, but quickly decides a nap sounds better. He’s laid his head on his desk for only a moment before his phone buzzes again.

    **AKECHI** 「 I can help you with that. 」

    **AKECHI** 「 Meet me at my apartment today. I’ll send you the address. 」

He eats his excited holler so it comes out more of a quiet squeal. Not Dating Him Girl shoots him a dirty look but he doesn’t care, fucking _Goro Akechi_ is gonna hook him up. He must have hot babes on tap; Ryuji could probably make a request or—nah, cooler to be surprised. He can’t look too eager for this, anyway.

If he takes off from his seat as soon as class lets out and tears down the stairs, well, he can’t make Akechi wait, he’s a busy guy. His leg is throbbing by the time he’s made it all the way through Shibuya to the front door of Akechi’s apartment, but it’s worth it when Akechi opens the door right away, like he’s not wasting any time either.

“I see you’re in your usual form,” Akechi says, eyes fixed squarely on Ryuji’s obnoxiously colorful t-shirt. Like he’s one to talk; he’s at home and yet he’s still got his stupid tie on.

“I tried wearin’ some other stuff,” Ryuji says, “but I always gotta come back to the classics.” He’s quickly ushered inside, and as he takes off his bag and shoes, he makes a show of glancing around the entire room.

“Damn.” Ryuji whistles. “So this is the rich celebrity lifestyle.”

“I’m not rich,” Akechi says. Could have fooled Ryuji. He’s got a nice apartment, everything looking new and clean and minimalist and not a empty wrapper or dirty dish in sight. Actually, it looks hardly lived-in at all. The only immediate clues to Akechi’s existence are his coat hung up in the entrance and a few pairs of his dress shoes. From looking around, that’s the extent of _anyone’s_ presence.

Ryuji turns around in surprise. “Whoa, do you live here by yourself?”

“That’s right, it’s just me.”

“Bigger than my place and you don’t gotta share with your parents! Lucky bastard.”

Nothing changes about Akechi’s expression, but an odd feeling settles over Ryuji anyway. He lets the moment pass without comment. “Yes,” Akechi says, “I’m very fortunate. Well, please, make yourself comfortable.”

Ryuji makes his way to the nice-looking couch and flops down on one end, pushing weird decorative pillows out of the way. He busies himself with looking around some more while Akechi loudly digs around in some kitchen cabinet, until his daydreams about his own kickass apartment are startled by a loud pop. When Ryuji looks over, Akechi’s got a large, shapely bottle in his hand. “The hell’s that?”

“Wine,” Akechi says. “Gift from a television executive. He must think it’s very funny to entice a junior detective to break the law.”

“Don’t tell me you really do fancy-ass shit like this.” He watches Akechi pour dark liquid full into one glass, then another. “Uh, I don’t really drink.”

“Neither do I.”

Ryuji figures he shouldn’t turn it down because, again, _free_ , so he drinks from his glass even though the wine makes his mouth pucker tight. Akechi, always perfect, takes calm sips from his.

“Wow, this tastes rough.” Ryuji bristles under Akechi’s stare. “Give me a break, I don’t know how to do stuff like this.”

“You learn eventually. And you should learn, in case you end up going to a nice restaurant together. Not that you should be a sommelier, but I think most women like being treated to a dinner by someone who took the effort to learn about it. Don’t you think?”

Ann probably would drink wine. He’s only ever seen her flip over her fancy vending machine drinks but she’s a model, she lived in Europe, that sounds like something she’d get into. He stares into his glass. It just tastes like shit. He doesn’t get it at all.

“I dunno. Maybe,” Ryuji finally says. “I just wanna show her a good time, no matter what we do. She deserves that much.”

“You must have someone special in mind for this date, if you’re this determined.”

“Y-Yeah. I do.”

Akechi smiles pleasantly. “Who is she?”

“None of your business,” Ryuji says. It’s too harsh out of his mouth, but he blames the sudden flare of protectiveness that came over him for that. Ann shouldn’t get dragged into this… _thing_ they’re doing, whatever it is.

Akechi’s agreeable smile doesn’t budge an inch. “I suppose it was rude of me to ask. I’m sorry,” he says, and Ryuji feels a twinge of embarrassment. He sinks himself deeper into the corner of the couch. Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t dump on the guy in his own home. 

The guy who’s got the golden ticket to his date, by the way.

“Nah, uh, don’t worry about it. It’s cool.” Ryuji fiddles his fingers on his glass. “She’s important to me, so I gotta do this date thing right. Speakin’ of which, you weren’t pulling my leg about helping me, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be helping you,” Akechi says. “I actually know someone who’d be a good fit for you.”

“Wha—heh, for real? Damn, you really came through for me? I’m gonna be your biggest fan for life after this!”

“Well, don’t get too carried away just yet.” Akechi sets down his glass. “You’ll be practicing with me today.”

Ryuji thinks he should have followed Akechi’s lead, because he nearly spills his own drink all over himself. “You just said you weren’t kiddin’ around!” he cries.

“Right, that’s still true. I’m not going to just unleash you on some poor, unsuspecting girl. We’ll practice together for a bit first and when I think you’re ready, I’ll give you her number. Is that a fair deal?”

“Come on!” Ryuji shoots up from his seat so quick that he nearly whacks his shins on the table, and Akechi drags him back down again. It sure sounds like the set-up to a bad joke, yet another way to clown on him, and Ryuji isn’t going to take it sitting down, or standing up or any which goddamn way. But… if this is serious, and he says he’s out, then there goes his only shot at a legit date so far. It takes everything he has, but he makes himself look at Akechi square in the eyes.

“What do you want me to do?” he ventures carefully.

Akechi seats himself next to Ryuji. “First, pretend I’m her. The girl you like, I mean.”

He might as well have asked Ryuji to eat his own head. “ _What?_ ”

“Pretend I’m her,” he repeats, like Ryuji’s the ridiculous one, “otherwise this won’t be a very immersive exercise. Right? Think about it. How would you approach her? How would you talk to her? I have to gauge where you’ve gotten better and where you need more help.”

“This is unreal,” Ryuji mumbles, hollowed out by a fresh appreciation for despair; there’s no way he can play along with that. Akechi is the furthest thing from Ann, even with his long eyelashes and legs crossed neatly like he was already in-character—no, wait, he always just sits like that, and his slim hands look rough anyway, nothing like a girl’s. But Akechi looks like he’s still expecting a serious answer, so Ryuji collects what’s left of his shattered pride. “Look, you can’t... be _her_. So you just be whatever other girl you want, or whatever the hell it is you need to do, yeah?” 

“Fine with me.”

“Okay. Great.” Ryuji wipes down his sweaty palms on his pants and bores a hole straight through the couch with his thousand-yard stare. This is a monumentally dumb idea but, well, he can just add it to the pile. It’s just practice for the real thing, right?

A real date wouldn’t involve him getting quizzed on every stupid thing Akechi ever texted him. How he stands, how he talks, how he smiles, it shouldn’t matter to Ann, but Akechi bosses him around about all of it like he thinks Ryuji’s never tried to pick up a chick in his life. It sounds simple enough – Akechi’s the available… girl, and Ryuji has to convince her to go out to Tokyo Dome or wherever – but as they run through the scenario over and over again, it feels anything but.

“So I was thinkin’, we should go out sometime.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Akechi cuts in, waving his glass around like some prissy king. “Use your words.”

“So I was think _ing_ —”

“That’s not what I mean. You’re being too casual. You’re not going to hang out with her, you want to take her out on a date. Be more confident.”

“Shit, I’m tryin’,” Ryuji says, feeling frustrated. He can’t sound smooth when his brain feels almost syrupy with warmth. He takes another drink from his glass, hoping it’ll unlock whatever casanova bullshit Akechi wants from him right now, and Akechi fills it back up again. Whatever’s in the second bottle somehow tastes worse than the first one.

“Maybe you need a break.” 

“I can keep going, but maybe you need one so you can lay off me.”

Akechi laughs, a little looser than Ryuji remembers ever hearing from him, and he finishes another pour from the bottle. “Maybe you’re right.” He glances up. “Let’s leave that alone for a bit. Asking her out is only one part, of course. I’m sure you’ve thought a lot more about where you would actually go together and what you would do. And... you must have thought about what would happen after your date.” Ryuji gives him a confused look. “About how you would kiss her.”

Ryuji chokes on nothing and coughs to clear his throat. “She’d murder me if I tried… but… we’d be on a date, though, so it’d probably be okay. Can’t lie, I’ve thought about doin’ it.”

Akechi stares at him for a long time. “Have you kissed someone before?”

“Does elementary school count?”

“Hahaha… no. Let me give you some pointers, then.” Akechi scoots over into Ryuji’s space, and when Ryuji moves aside too, he hits the armrest. 

“H-How hard can it be?” Ryuji says, his back pressing up against his lack of escape route.

“I think the bar has been raised since you were eight years old.” Damn, can’t come back from that, so Ryuji doesn’t even try. “First, you don’t immediately run away in fear. Confidence, remember? So you have to relax.” Akechi raises his hand and settles it in a loose fist under Ryuji’s ear. Harmless enough, but Ryuji nearly jumps anyway. “But the opposite is true, too, you can’t just attack her. She also has to feel relaxed. Let her feel controlled, but comfortable.”

“What does…” Ryuji’s face is starting to feel really hot. “How do you do that?”

“Easy,” Akechi says. He traces one finger along Ryuji’s jaw. “Just have conviction in your fingers—” he taps the underside of Ryuji’s chin and his head follows up, “—and you can lead her face wherever you want it to go. You come off powerful, but not aggressive.” 

“Yeah.” He feels more like a tiny creature caught in Akechi’s grasp. 

“And you have to relax your lips,” Akechi continues, “because it won’t feel good if you’re too stiff.” He pauses, way too close to Ryuji’s face. “Hm. Well, I could explain it to you, but I think you’re more of a hands-on learner. You don’t get it through your head unless you experience it for yourself. Isn’t that right?”

Maybe his brain is melting down, like he’s not hearing this right. It kind of feels like he has lava in his skull, burning him up in anticipation of what he’s afraid is coming next.

“I don’t know,” Ryuji says.

Akechi closes the gap anyway and when he presses his lips to Ryuji’s, they feel smooth and soft—for a split second he forgets who they belong to—but the smell of men’s cologne and the taste of wine is a dead giveaway, even when he squeezes his eyes shut. This is—he’s supposed to be learning something here, he’s sure, but all he can do is breathe hard out his nose; shit, he can’t relax, and he holds his death grip on the couch even after Akechi pulls away.

“You can’t breathe all over her like that.” Akechi looks annoyed. “A little more restraint on your end would help.”

“Whaddya expect?” Ryuji yelps with equal irritation. His extensive schoolyard experience apparently wasn’t good enough and yet Akechi still expected perfection from him. Not that it was helping much here; Akechi did things with his mouth that blew all those childish kisses out of the water.

“Just pay attention this time,” Akechi says, and kisses him again until his mouth is too occupied to complain – Ryuji tries anyway, but bitching against his mouth only lets Akechi catch the parting of his lips and press in deeper. _That_ does something weird to him; a strange bolt jangling his nerves and rushing down below. He groans awkwardly around Akechi’s lips, but he seems to be too distracted with tipping his face back and forth like a dainty lady. Ryuji sits there and takes it, tries to focus hard on capturing what Akechi is doing and even harder at ignoring the stirring he feels in his pants.

Finally, Akechi leans back, lips distractingly swollen, and says, “Okay, now you try it on me.”

“Uhh,” Ryuji blubbers.

“I thought you’d get the hang of it rather quickly. Or is that not the case?”

“I got it, I got it.” Ryuji looks over and then, with a barely audible string of curses, swipes up his glass and chugs down the rest of the wine in it in three quick gulps. “Okay,” he says, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, “let’s… let’s rock, let’s do it, man.” When he looks back, he sees that Akechi has already drunkenly relaxed back on the couch, his head comfortably nestled on another shitty decorative pillow. He looks like he’s in no mood to move, so Ryuji has no choice but to clamber half over him, limbs stiffly propping him up as far above Akechi’s body as he can muster. 

“Go ahead,” Akechi says.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as easy as Akechi made it look. But it’s not Ryuji’s fault; he’s made his life harder with the wine, and with this stupid position they’re in, and with the weird rumbly groans he makes when Ryuji mimics what he’s supposed to just right. It makes him all nervous, makes his hands feel meaty and his touch too clumsy. In-between kissing him, he tries to lead his face as delicately as Akechi lead his, but mostly manages rough pushes against his cheek. “Was that too hard?” he says, after Akechi makes a noise loud enough that Ryuji can’t ignore. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Akechi says, fingers tightening around Ryuji’s arms, “some girls don’t—they don’t mind that.”

“O-Oh, okay.”

With the way he reaches up and pulls Ryuji harder against his mouth, though, that’s not being in-character anymore. Ryuji doesn’t know what he’s even learning from this, nothing at all, except that Akechi’s boozy, sticky lips are still provoking him in all the wrong ways.

Akechi hovers back a hair from Ryuji’s mouth to say, “And you can also…”, and Ryuji feels him thread something smooth into his hand – he quickly realizes it’s his tie. Then Akechi’s hand clasps over his and moves, pulling it taut until there’s no more give, until the only resistance is delicate neck.

Ryuji gives it the faintest tug. It pulls Akechi forward, brushing his lips back onto his.

That hot, melty feeling is back in his skull, building up fast.

So he crashes their mouths back together, maybe another dumb move, but it takes the edge off that heat and their messy kissing has got to be considered making out at this point. It’s less of a mistake, at least, than the next one Ryuji makes: he lets his body, held up so gingerly above Akechi’s, sink down and he graces Akechi’s leg with the slide of his obvious erection.

He bolts his hips up again like they’ve been shocked back into place. “Shit, I—” He clamps his mouth shut. Maybe Akechi just didn’t notice.

“You got turned on fast,” Akechi says in a low voice. His eyes flick downwards. “Don’t press up against her like that. It’ll make you seem even more desperate.”

Ryuji flinches, his face burning with another layer of shame. “Fuck off, I’m not—”

But Akechi arches his back and slowly rolls his hips up and Ryuji can feel that he’s hard, too, and the gooey warmth packed in his brain breaks free and oozes down his body.

Akechi is hard, he’s turned on too, because _of him_.

The dizzy spell he gets nearly knocks him flat off the couch.

Akechi’s hands go for Ryuji’s belt. He’s got the buckle undone before Ryuji even thinks to protest, then the snaps on his pants quickly follow. “Whoa, whoa,” he says, but his hands are still clutched tight on Akechi’s shirt and tie.

“Practice,” Akechi says, breathlessly. “For her.”

Then his dick’s out in his hot hand and Akechi squeezes him tight, gives him long and teasing pulls all the way up. Ryuji sucks in air through his teeth, the embarrassment almost too much, but it can’t overcome the relief he feels to have a hand, holy shit, _someone else’s_ hand on him. He hangs his head down low until his forehead nearly meets Akechi’s shoulder to hide his face away. That makes things worse – now Akechi pants too loud in his ear, pumps his hand too eagerly, and Ryuji’s legs shake with tiny quivers. Akechi’s other arm is moving around too, and it’s because he’s got a hand shoved into his own pants and Ryuji can’t look at this; his head is already woozy and watching Akechi get off just makes him even dizzier.

He can’t stop himself from coming quick over Akechi’s lap, with his bounding pulse rushing in his ears and his hips moving without thought. Everything’s gone weak and airy except for his dick and it feels fucking _great_ , so his body gives up any pretense of staying upright and lurches him forward. Leaned like this into Akechi’s shoulder, Ryuji can hear the quiet sounds he makes, breathy ‘ _ahh, ahhs_ ’, can feel his little shudders as he—as Akechi—

What the hell did they just even do?

“I…” Ryuji sits back and stares down at his pants, at his shirt, stained with damning evidence. “I gotta go.”

“Sakamoto—”

“Yeah, I—” he stands up so fast he almost trips backwards over the table, “—I should just,” and then he’s off, booking it to the doorway and shoving himself back in his pants with record speed. He grabs his bag and his shoes, there’s no time to even put them on, and his fly might still be open.

“Sakamoto, wait,” Akechi says, but Ryuji won’t wait; he won’t look at his face because it’s as red and messy as the rest of him. He slams open the front door and takes off into the night, maybe some grandma’ll see him like this but he’ll take his chances, and he runs far, far away until he can’t hear Akechi’s voice calling anymore.

***

Ryuji’s phone chimes. He’s not gonna answer it, no way.

But something’s telling him he should go check.

    **AKECHI** 「 Forgetting something? 」

    **AKECHI** 「 I still have the phone number for you. 」

    **AKECHI** 「 We never actually finished, after all. 」

    **AKECHI** 「 I should get home from the studio after five tomorrow. 」

    **AKECHI** 「 See you then. 」


	2. Bad End

Notebook, check. Extra pens, check. Super gross-tasting energy drink, check. Every textbook for every subject open at once for maximum absorption, check.

Finals cram night is on, bitches.

At least, it should be, but Akechi’s voice cuts through everything and Ryuji really can’t focus. Even his tiny image on the faraway screen is distracting. He’d ask Akira to turn off the television, but he seems preoccupied with the coffee machine – Mr. Top Ten here’s gotta brew his fancy-pants artisan coffee first before he breezes through their notes. 

Another reason, the one he’d rather not admit, is an impulsive need to see Akechi far removed, put back in his place as some distant talking point. Watching him like this here in the café, like he’s just useless background noise, it almost seems possible. There’s no shortage of these damn interviews for Ryuji to do it with, either. The guy must not even go to school anymore.

“Akechi-san,” the first interviewer buzzes, “I know you’re here to talk about the Ajisen Imports case, but we’re dying to quiz you on your personal life first!”

“A quiz? Ahaha… please go easy on me. I’ve just had my finals,” Akechi says. The audience giggles and laughs along with him. Great. More of those corny old grandma jokes he likes to do so much.

“Don’t worry, my questions are a cinch!” She leans over. “Are you single? Dating anyone right now?”

“Sounds like she just wants to know for herself!” quips her blowhard partner, followed by more stupid laughter. Ryuji somehow restrains himself from snapping a jerkoff motion at the screen.

Akechi laughs too, looks so practiced with his instant smile. “No, nobody right now. Between school and my police work, I don't really have the time to date. ...Although I am waiting for the right girl to come along.”

_Liar_. Ryuji wonders what those two talking heads would say if they knew everything Akechi got up to in his free time. Now THAT would be some juicy shit.

“What total bullshit,” he says, and it comes out loud enough for Akira to look up from his work at the press. “He sounds like a saint, but really all he’s doing is messin’ around with a ton of girls.” He licks along his lower lip. “Guys, too.”

“Really?” Akira looks intrigued. “Where’d you hear that?”

Ryuji’s mouth dries up, shit, it runs as fast as he used to. “I… uh, I read it online,” he says. He can’t look at Akira anymore. “Gossip shit on the Phansite.”

“Huh, so Ryuji keeps up with trashy gossip like a housewife, good to know.” Akira only narrowly dodges the pen thrown at him and cracks up so hard that Ryuji joins in too.

Later, when Ryuji’s on the train platform waiting for the last ride home, his phone buzzes.

    **AKECHI** 「 Have you asked her out? 」

Yeah, right. If he had, he wouldn’t still be talking to Akechi. He tells him as much, leaves it at that.

    **AKECHI** 「 It sounds like you need more practice, then. 」

Ryuji doesn’t respond to the text. He pulls up Ann’s thread instead, hovering his thumb over the keyboard like he can will the words to come out, but they don’t.

It’s only in the safety of his bed, lights all out and blanket pulled over his head, that he can send a reply back. 

    **RYUJI** 「 When’re you free, Mr. Detective? 」

***

Ryuji’s pressed tight into the couch, praying Akechi doesn’t look at the wet spot his erection is already making in his underwear. But Akechi does, of course he does, and the pleased expression on his face gets his dick jumping.

Fuck. Ryuji can’t handle this and he really needs to stop coming over, because this is what their dating practice keeps devolving into. Maybe if he just got Ann’s hands on him already, or literally anybody else’s, he can’t be picky, he could get his rocks off like a normal person and focus on actually learning something useful here. As it stands now, he’s so hard up that his dick responds to shit as little as Akechi standing in front of him, doing absolutely nothing. He hasn’t even put his hands on him yet.

Although... it won’t be his hands today.

“It’s good practice,” Akechi says. “So you won’t come in her face as soon as she looks at you.”

Ryuji wants to say something back because wow, he sounds like a real asshole sometimes, but Akechi firmly palms him through the fabric and he fumbles the words. “ _God_ ,” he moans instead, tossing his head back. He feels a few strong tugs and his underwear’s down at his thighs now, and so is Akechi, kneeling down at his erection with a predatory stare. His cock makes that appreciative twitch again, beading up even slicker, and Ryuji crosses his arms over his face so he doesn’t have to see what Akechi thinks about that.

“So I’m the girl you’ve been seeing, and I’m about to—you’re not going to look?” He can feel Akechi’s presence move away, like he’s leaned back.

“Hell no.”

“Seems like a waste of time, then.”

“It’s _your_ dumbass idea, so… blame yourself.” Akechi hasn’t come back closer, but he hasn’t left yet either. Ryuji stupidly hopes he won’t.

He hears a small chuckle. “And it’s your education, I’m just delivering the lesson.”

Then Ryuji feels long fingers grab and push apart his thighs before a mouth—Akechi’s mouth—descends on his dick in one quick motion and he nearly ascends to a higher plane of existence.

Ryuji’s watched a lot of porn, he can admit that, so he’s seen blowjobs before and he’s definitely thought about what they felt like. But this is way beyond some sad spit on his dick, this is hot and wet and fast and – Akechi tongues the underside of his tip and it makes Ryuji squirm in pleasure and fight back a moan – has he done this before? Ryuji can’t imagine how or why Akechi’d do something like this, but the alternative is that this is his first time, and he’s only ever done this to Ryuji, and somehow he’s already a fucking expert. Nothing really sounds like a satisfying answer to him but he’s quickly losing the ability to care; he’s only trying to buck up into moist heat but his hips are pinned down hard by Akechi’s hands, damn, if Akechi goes back to just his hands after this, he’ll—

“Ahhh, _shit_ ,” Ryuji groans out hard, despite himself.

—He’ll have to deal somehow because this is just a one-time, special thing. Jerking each other off, okay, they’d done that before, whatever, but mouths on dicks really crosses some sort of line. Especially Akechi’s mouth and especially with the way it gets rosy and swollen after they’ve been kissing for too long.

Ryuji wonders what it must look like right now.

Curiosity gets the better of him. He lifts his arms up just enough to peek under them, and what Ryuji sees is just obscene – Akechi, perfect Goro Akechi, hair mussed up and mouth shiny-slick with saliva and with _his dick_ half in it. Akechi’s eyes flit up and meet his, and they brighten with interest. He pulls back a bit so he can speak, but his hand doesn’t stop stroking him. “Good?” He sounds out of breath. Ryuji’s dick is making him out of breath. His head is spinning just thinking about it. 

“Mmyeah,” Ryuji slurs out. Why is Akechi still even talking?

He guesses Akechi must have the same idea, because he takes one hand off of Ryuji to steady his dick firmly before bobbing down on it, looking so shameless it’d be infuriating if his mouth didn’t feel so goddamn _good_. Ryuji’s hips are rocking up more now, freer to move now without Akechi’s other hand, and he lifts his ass up a bit to get more of himself into Akechi’s mouth. Akechi shoves him back down with a forearm but he takes Ryuji even deeper with a thick groan, like he’s so into this, and this train of thought is so freaking bad because Ryuji won’t last much longer if he keeps it up. Maybe he should tell Akechi to slow down – nothing comes out of his mouth but heavy breathing – and then Akechi lavishes so much attention on his tip that his orgasm slams out of him without warning. He quickly muffles his face with his arms again but it’s no use, he can’t cover up all the desperate moans he makes as he comes. God, he’s seeing more stars than a goddamn astronaut.

Akechi’s mouth wetly pops off of his dick, so Ryuji looks down again and notices it’s cleaner than he was expecting—wait, when he came, did Akechi—but he can’t finish that thought because Akechi’s hands are grabbing at his own belt, hastily clawing at his zipper before it’s undone and his flushed dick is brought out.

“Me too,” he gasps, “please.” He steadies one foot on the couch so he can push forward at Ryuji’s face, and Ryuji recoils into the back cushion.

“Uh, hate to break it to you, man, but she doesn’t have one of those. This ain’t gonna help me.”

“So then you’ll practice not being a selfish lover,” Akechi says, breathless. He gives his cock a squeeze and leans even closer to Ryuji. “Please.”

No way, no way, _no way_. He can’t… he’s not supposed to do this. Right?

He thinks of Ann. Ann with nice long hair, Ann with big soft breasts, Ann on her knees in front of him with a waiting mouth – would she do it too? And would she ask if she was his first?

And what would she say about what he’s decided to do? 

Because when he leans forward and gives the head of Akechi’s cock a tentative lick, he’s just returning the favor. Right.

Ryuji gives him a couple more licks, quick ones, because the foreign taste of Akechi’s slick precome on his tongue is kind of weirding him out. Akechi sighs contentedly, feeding his dick closer to Ryuji’s mouth, and Ryuji clutches it in his hand, giving it the firm, easy strokes he knows Akechi likes. Ryuji mouths around the head until it’s sloppy with his spit, that’s probably got to feel pretty damn good, but going deeper is just...

He’s getting gently nudged on the back of his head, urged forward by Akechi’s hand, but Ryuji is… having trouble with this. It feels like yet another thing he’s getting tested on, and honestly, he wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention to the particulars of good technique while he was trying to practically fuck Akechi’s mouth. But maybe Ryuji should just—damnit, he closes his eyes and makes himself take more of Akechi’s cock into his mouth, a little more still, and Akechi’s moaning picks up louder in response.

“ _Ryuji._ ” Akechi shudders his name out in one slow breath. They don’t do first names with each other but sometimes one slips out, and when it does it’s always like this. It makes Ryuji feel strange in a way he can’t explain, every time.

Instead of thinking about that at all, Ryuji puts all his focus back on Akechi’s dick, which is only the slightly less embarrassing option. He can’t go all the way like Akechi can, that’s just too far, so he uses his hand to stroke everywhere he can’t reach with his mouth. The rhythm he works up gets Akechi’s hips rolling, and he can feel his hand start to travel insistently around his head. 

“Sakamoto, I’m going to…” Akechi roughly pets his hand along Ryuji’s scalp, catching his hair between his fingers. “When I come, where should I do it?”

_Where?_ The fuck kind of question is that? Ryuji just grunts noncommittally and keeps going. If he doesn’t answer, if he doesn’t make a choice, then he’s not the one taking responsibility for this.

“Sakamoto,” Akechi tries again, but he tilts his head back and gets lost in making soft noises that get Ryuji’s ears burning. He always sounds weird and breathy like that when he’s close, when he’s going to maybe, possibly, really come into Ryuji’s mouth. Akechi groans loud and Ryuji pulls away on reflex, leaving only his hand to work Akechi fast. The first shot of his come catches Ryuji on the lip and he turns away, the rest glazing the side of his mouth in thick stripes.

He wipes at his mouth with his shirt. “Shit, dude.”

“Well, I asked,” Akechi says after he catches his breath. “Which you forgot to do, by the way. When you’re going to come, you need to let her know. It’s common courtesy.”

“Is it a courtesy to nut in my face?”

“I asked.”

Akechi leans in and kisses him. It’s kinda weird when he tastes like musky skin, but Ryuji lets him do it anyway. He needs the extra practice. With the way Akechi hums into his mouth, he’d even say he’s getting a little good at this.

“ _Soda_ ,” Ryuji rasps when Akechi finally pulls away. “I need a soda, my mouth tastes gross as hell.”

With a laugh, Akechi says, “Is it that bad?”

“Yeah, I don’t know how girls do this shit. Seems like something you gotta do a lot ‘til you get used to it.”

Akechi just gives him a knowing smile. “There’s always next time.”

***

Ryuji’s at the apartment again. He’s still standing in the entryway because he’s not staying here for long, even though Akechi is running a hand down his arm.

“I did it,” he says, “I asked her out.” That hand keeps moving. “And she said yes.”

“She did? Congratulations, then. I have to say, you have good taste.” Akechi smiles so pleasantly it feels stifling. “Takamaki-san is a very pretty girl.”

Ryuji freezes. “What? How’d you know?”

“Oh, it’s not very impressive. I mean, it’s not quite a masterful deduction when your phone background is a picture of you two together, is it? And you did just confirm it for me yourself.”

Ryuji gets even madder, goddamnit, this jackass yanks his chain every chance he can get. He rips his arm away. “Whatever, does it matter to you who it’s with? I got my damn date with her, no thanks to you.”

“Well,” Akechi says, “that’s really not true. I taught you a lot.”

“You didn’t teach me shit!”

Akechi laughs now, rough and sudden. “You think you knew what to say, what to do, without me? Don’t act so sanctimonious.” He steps forward, closing Ryuji off. “If you kiss her, it’s thanks to me. If you fuck her, it’s thanks to me. Considering all the times you’ve come over here, I bet you can’t wait for her to get you off too.”

“Shut up!”

“Would you still say _Ann-chan_? Or maybe,” he says, low, “you’d say my name instead. An accident, out of habit.”

“Fuck you,” Ryuji spits, but his face burns from Akechi being so close.

“That’s all you have to say? That’s not much of a rebuttal.”

It really isn’t, but fuck him anyway, and fuck all the shit he likes to lord over Ryuji. Ryuji shoves Akechi back and readies his hands up – so maybe he can’t beat Akechi at words, but his fists always talk better – but Akechi doesn’t come at him. He just stares at Ryuji like he’s a disappointment, and somehow that’s even worse.

“I’m goin’,” Ryuji says, and if he wanted Akechi to try and stop him as he stalks out the door, he doesn’t get the satisfaction of it.

***

The funny thing is, Ryuji takes a girl to Tokyo Dome after all. It’s not a fancy restaurant with fancy wine, but that’s okay. Ann screams her head off on the coaster like she’s in middle school again and it beats the hell out of any tight-assed dinner plans he could’ve ever come up with. She even clings onto his arm with a cute wobble when they step off.

“Ummm, maybe we should wait to grab dessert for a bit. I forgot how tough this is on my stomach,” Ann groans. So instead they hide away on the side of a building, tucked away from the crowds.

“Can’t believe you said yes,” Ryuji says.

“Stop it.” Ann eyes him with a stern look. He really should; this is like the fifth time he’s said it, like it might stop being true any second. “Is that so weird? I’ve been on dates before.”

“But you said yes to _me_.”

“It was you asking me out so of course I was gonna say yes!”

“Then why’d you look so surprised when I brought it up?”

“Because I didn’t think you were ever going to ask? You’re kind of a weenie when it comes to girls.”

Ryuji elbows her with a “Hey!” and she swats him back with an easy laugh. They’re good, they’re comfortable, but the true test is the thing he’s been building towards all this time. When she quiets down, she looks at him with a nervous, interested smile. Now’s his chance. “Ann.”

“Yeah?”

“I wanna kiss you,” he says, and holds his hand to the side of Ann’s head, just under her ear.

“Here?” she huffs, and she glances around furtively at all the passersby that could see them together here. “Isn’t that a little pushy, Ryuji?” But she goes to look at his lips anyway, so he trails one finger under her chin, lifts it up, waits. Her eyes cut up to his, back down to his lips and up again, and she puffs out an anticipatory breath that’s his signal. Ryuji leans in slow and kisses the hell out of her.

And he feels nothing.

“Wow,” Ann says when they part, her voice pushed up to an airy lilt. “Don’t get mad at me, but that was a lot better than I was expecting.”

Ryuji’s fingers curl around her face tighter. “Can I do it again?”

He can and he does, again and again, but it’s not right, not even after he’s kissed off all her lipgloss down to the bare skin he’s used to. It’s too soft and too mild, no rough hands or strong grip, and it’s not fair that even now Ryuji’s mind has to wander to him. When he pulls away, he sees the one thing they have in common: rosy lips, kissed plump and pink.

Ann giggles to herself. “You’re a good kisser, I can’t believe it!”

“Yeah.” Ryuji feels numb, tries not to sound numb, shouldn’t he feel happy about this? Everything he ever wanted in every sappy jerkoff fantasy he ever had and he can’t even be excited? He looks at Ann smiling at him, looking honestly _happy_ , and he feels like the biggest piece of shit there ever was.

He can’t wallow in it for too long because a security guard’s finally noticed them and barks at them to cut it out or leave, so they squirrel out of their hiding spot and hurry over back towards the ice cream stand they passed up. Ryuji keeps his head down and watches his shoes hit the pavement, because he’s not sure how he can look at Ann with the guilt he has plastered all over his face.

“Geez, that guy was kind of a jerk. Well, maybe we could… maybe we could pick up where left off? Later?” She laughs and then teasingly adds, “Don’t try and charm me by saying I’m your first, though. I totally won’t believe you!”

Ryuji doesn’t have the appetite for dessert.

***

Ryuji rings the doorbell once.

No answer.

So he keeps pushing it and pushing it until Akechi opens the door, and the carefully blank expression he wears quickly melts away to genuine surprise. “Sakamoto-san.”

“...Hey.”

“I don’t think you texted me.”

“I didn’t.”

Akechi just stands there. Maybe he’s waiting for some sort of explanation, but Ryuji doesn’t really have one. 

_I think I messed it up. It’s all your fault. You were right about me._

None of them sound like anything he wants to admit. No, Akechi’s the one who should have to answer for fucking everything up for him.

“Are you gonna let me in or what?” he asks.

“There’s no reason to, is there? You went on your date.”

“Yeah. I did. But it didn’t…” Ryuji wets his lips. “I think I need more practice.”

Akechi’s eyes shine with something almost victorious.

“Oh. So—you should come in, then.” He moves back and lets Ryuji step inside the entryway, step right up to his face, and he smiles as he fists his hand into Ryuji’s shirt. “There’s still so much more left to learn.”


End file.
